


The Death and Life of Michael V. Jones

by TheQueen



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Character Death, Character Study, F/M, Fake AH Crew, Gen, Immortal FAHC, Immortal Fake AH Crew, Michael-centric, Respawn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-04-19 15:26:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4751429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQueen/pseuds/TheQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day after Michael dies, he wakes up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Just as a man discards worn put clothes and outs on new ones, the soul discards worn out bodies and wears new ones,”

\- _Bhagavad Gita: Chapter 2, Verse 22_

…

The day after Michael dies, he wakes up.

He is in his room, warped in his comforter, probably wearing his pajamas. Ray is sitting against the headboard, hand cradled in his hair as Ryan wipes the sweat from Michael’s forehead with a cool cloth. From the noise far away, Geoff is somewhere else, loudly ordering someone, probably Matt, to get a ground team searching for whoever had hit their warehouse last night.

He asks Ryan where everyone is.

“Gavin couldn’t stay,” Ryan says, rinsing the cloth before letting it sit in the ice bath. He sits down in a chair that has been pushed up next to the bed and Michael hopes they’ve been taking shifts but knows Ryan hasn’t slept that night either way. “Jack is back at the base with Lindsay, helping with clean up.”

Lindsay…

Michael turns away so he’s facing Ray, can count dark circles under the poor boy’s eyes from where he’s laying. “When did Ray fall sleep?” Michael whispers, voice cracking as if underused.

“I’m not,” Ray whispers back and tugs Michael up and close to bury his face in Michael’s shoulder—so careless with this new body so free of old aches from older wounds. Though a part of Michael, a distant echo of his…other self, is sure it can feel where the bullet ate away at his flesh (where the fire burnt). Michael closes his eyes in a hope of steading himself, grounding himself in this new, strange reality. “I didn’t think you’d wake up.” Ray admits, finally, after a few moments of heavy breathing as Michael rubs circles into his back in an attempt to comfort.

Next to the bed, Ryan shifts, the sound of a glass against wood and then movement as Ryan comes into view to lean against the headboard, look at Michael over Ray’s shoulder. “We were all scared,” Ryan adds.

Behind Ryan, the window is closed and the afternoon Los Santos sun beats heavy against the glass but still the room feels cold and Michael tug’s Ray closer and screws his eyes shut and breathes hard. The house has fallen silent. A door opens and shuts somewhere in the distance. Finally, Ryan gets up and pulls out his cellphone, probably to tell everyone the news.

“Tell Lindsay…” Michael stops. His mind freezes as he tries to find the word to tell the love of his life he was alive when he should be dead, had been dead, is dead. He is dead. The old Michael…that body…that Michael…. Michael’s breath stutters to a stop and his grip on Ray tightens and it’s Ray’s turn to tell him it’s okay, it’s going to be okay, as Michael is lost, reliving that moment when the bomb goes off and the bullet hits and it’s all fire and blood and red and pain…before it starts going black and he had known…he knows…

He hadn’t screamed.

…

Gavin comes home when Michael is standing in the kitchen, starring down at his hands as if he’d never seen hands before. And Gavin can only hold himself still long enough for Michael to realize his boi had returned before he’s sprinting through the kitchen to reach Michael and pull him close, tuck the shorter man against his chest as if he could shield Michael from the world. “God damnit,” Gavin hisses, “My lovely boi. Oh thank god, thank fucking god, Michael.”

Michael unfreezes after a moment to wrap his arms around Gavin, returning the hug just as hard. “Oh, Michael. Michael. Michool, my boi.” Gavin continues, not wanting to let go, never wanting to let go because as the hours had passed, he’d been so sure…had convinced himself that Michael was…. He shook his head and refused to think about that still lifeless…thing they had found and the blood…so much blood and fire and…god…in the end there had been so little to pick up and they’d been so sure that they’d lost their boi. They had mourned until Kidn had called, said they’d pulled Michael’s body while sweeping the Westside Beach because that’s where Jack tended to end up afterwards but even then no one knew for sure if it would stick and the clock had just kept fucking ticking…(and Gavin hadn’t felt time in so long). No…He can’t think about it and grounds himself on the fact that he could feel Michael’s chest move with each breath.

It takes them a long time to untangle themselves and by that point, Ryan was hovering by the doorway, reminding himself that his family was home. And Michael wasn’t selfish enough to tell Gavin too stop hovering, even if that meant Gavin was allowed to make him a cup of coffee and that fucker always got it wrong: too much sugar. Michael smiled as he took a sip (at least something hadn’t changed).

…

It was only after that Gavin realizes he hadn’t heard Michael say a single word.

…

Jack comes home, covered in blood. None of it is hers.

Michael is asleep, curled away in one of the guest bedrooms. In the past two days since his death, he’d taken to sleeping often and in every room he could, constantly jumping. It was almost a game to try and find where the man had stored himself away that evening.

“He does it a lot,” Ryan confides in her. “Sleeping during the day.” He’s maskless and sockless, toes curling and uncurling as he squishes himself into the corner of the coach, all 6ft of muscle, as if he could ever be small.

Jack frowns but shrugs. She just got here, after all. “We all deal with our rebirths in our own ways. He might just be tired.” She takes a sip of her wine and points out, “Babies sleep a lot.”

Ryan shrugs. “I don’t remember my first.” He admits, “I don’t remember what’s normal.”

“We’re all too old,” Jack reminds him. “I don’t think even Gavin does and he’s the youngest before Michael. But he’s still at least three centuries. I didn’t even know any more of us were being born.”

“So you think we should just give him time?”

Jack shakes her head. “I’m saying I’m running blind on this.” Jack says, “Let’s just see how it plays out. Sleep might be what he needs right now.”

Ryan doesn’t look appeased but he stops pushing the issue, instead handing Jack the wine bottle and opening himself a can of diet coke. “Okay.”

…

Michael wakes up before the sun and stumble’s his way downstairs because he knows better at this point to try and fight this bought of sleeplessness and turns on the TV and waits for the house to rise. It doesn’t take long. Geoff is the first to wake up and sneak off, as he has been the past few days since Michael…woke up. Geoff leaves as quickly as he comes and Michael only has time to wave goodbye—not that he thinks Geoff even notices he’s awake—before his boss is out the door and down the street, speeding away to do or handle something.

Next come Gavin and Ray. Loud thumping and grumbles precede Gavin’s zombie walks into the kitchen, too tired to notice that Michael was stretched out on the living room coach, but Ray, light footed as ever, stops and wishes him good morning, avoiding the call of coffee long enough to reach out and touch Michael’s head (and it’s surreal how tactile Ray has made himself when before Michael knew he was lucky to receive a rare Narvaez hug). The coffee machine stutters awake with a distinct sigh. And over the dull roar of the television, he can hear Gavin and Ray talking in voices too low for him to make out the words. But he’s positive they’re talking about him. Everyone is always talking about him. Ever since…and…

It’s like his brain stops. It just stops. Stuttering over the image of fire like a faulty video on repeat that Michael is sure he came back wrong, fucked in the head, and stuck. He squeezes his hands together and hunches over to try and get that damn shaking under control and starts mentally cursing as he feels his lungs stutter for just a moment before he’s forcing his body back under control because damn it! Damn it, this body might not be his yet, but it is. It’s his and it’s new but he’s learning.

He’s learning how it feels when it’s tired and when it’s hungry. He’s learning how the sun burns on his bare skin and the way a cold glass of water tickles the inside of his throat and sits smooth in his stomach. He’s learning how his hair sticks up after a restless sleep and a restful one. He’s learning how his lips chap and his finger nails crack and he’s learning what it feels like to run and to jog and to fall, skinned knees when Gavin trips into him, the British klutz. And…he’s learning what it’s like to get back up.

But fuck. It’s taking longer than he wants and…his brain won’t stop sticking and, if he wasn’t so afraid, he might just stick himself to see if he comes back right next time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised myself I wouldn't post this until I finished [The Good, The Bad, and The Bloody](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4584057/chapters/10441482). But I lied. 
> 
> The Immortal FAHC has always really intersted me so I thought I'd put my own spin on it and really consider what it's like to come back from the dead. I hope you guys enjoy it. I'll try and post every two weeks or so.


	2. Chapter 2

"The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?"

_\- Edgar Allan Poe_

...

Ever since the warehouse break in, Gavin’s been working double time to try and track down the rest of the bastards who thought they’d gotten a one-up on the Fake AH Crew. It’s taking longer than he wants, but at least the people who managed to get past them were at least a little clever. Jack doesn’t share the same sentiment, but she’s working harder than Gavin and he hasn’t spoken to Geoff in days…

Michael hasn’t come in yet and that means Ray and Ryan haven’t either. Everyone’s doing their best not to mention it. Except for Lindsay. Lindsay asks Gavin how Michael is every day: is he sleeping? Is he eating? Does he look different? She makes it easy to talk to her when at first Gavin has been so scared to look into the eye’s of his best friend’s wife, knowing her husband had died on his…

But Gavin can’t think of that right now. He needs to work. He needs to take these bastards down and he needs to get even. And maybe if he does, then Michael will be safe.

(And he’ll be able to sleep at night.)

He is looking through another report when he gets Ray’s text to come home. Really, all Ray texts is “Michael.” And he’s out of the office in less than five minutes with half a mind to send a quick message to Jack with an apology and a request for Kdin to pick up where he’s left off before he’s jumping into his car and pushing fifteen miles over the speed limit on the highway back into town.

Ryan opens the door when he makes it out of the elevator, waiting for him, and ushers him quickly. What strikes Gavin is how deathly quiet everything is.

“He’s upstairs,” Ryan whispers, taking Gavin’s coat as he toes off his shoes. Ryan’s hair is a mess, the bags under his eyes only growing since the last time Gavin saw him (he probably hasn’t slept for more than four hours in days). And there’s a tension about him, like a strong wind was going to either send him tumbling down or exploding, tearing everything around him.

“You’re not coming up?”

Ryan shakes his head and grips Gavin’s coat tighter. “He’s upstairs.”

It’s…It’s like someone has died. That’s what if feels like. Like the house is a mausoleum and Gavin is going up to visit the dead. He’s been to mausoleums before. You live long enough, you have to see the world. It’s a must. When he’d first died, he’d gone running through Italy and then up, making his way through Eastern Europe and then West. Finally settling in Europe only when the 60’s were drawing to a close. One of the first stops he’d made was to Florence. He’d wanted to see David. He got lost, found the Medici’s Chapel and walked upstairs. It had been going back in time. Surrounded by green and white marble with the statues of the dead looking down on him, it was, since discovering his immortality, the first time Gavin had ever felt so small, so weak.

Now walking up the steps of their shared home, Gavin could feel the stares of statues hundreds of thousands of kilometers away on the back of his neck as if he’d never left.

He check’s Michael’s room first. And then Ray’s. He skips his. He finds them in Geoff’s curled up on the floor, Michael’s face hidden in Ray’s shoulder. The sound of sobs sound like drum beats in his ears.

Gavin opens his mouth to speak and only stops when Ray catches his eye and shakes his head. So Gavin joins them on the floor and places an uncertain hand against Michael’s shoulder because he’s lost.

And he’s scared.

 _What happened_ , he mouths to Ray and Ray mouths back, _I don’t know._

And so they sit there, in silence, as Michael cries himself to sleep.

…

The next morning, Jack offer’s Gavin a ride to work over coffee, which he declines. “I’m not coming it in. I already have Kdin covering for me.” He shrugs, glancing down at his cup.

Jack is, understandably, not pleased. “Don’t you want to catch them?” Jack snaps, tossing her mug into the sink for someone else to wash. “These fuckers….”

“I know what they did, Jack,” Gavin cuts her off. “I was. There!” he reminded her, “I saw him go in and I didn’t fucking react fast enough and…”

“Gavin, you died,”

“Yeah well…” Gavin huffed, “We knew I was coming back, didn’t we? But…I died and I thought he had…and then he didn’t…he didn’t….”

She walks around the counter and pulls him in for a hug. And he’s always been taller than her but she stands on her toes to press a kiss to his forehead as he remembered his words. “He was dead, Jack…he died and I was dead and…I… I didn’t know if he was coming back.”

She rubbed his back, “I know, Darling. I know.” He let go and she let him step away and pick up his coffee. “But isn’t that all the more reason to get these bastards?”

Gavin shrugs. He looks up at her. “He’s crying, Jack. Ray says he just sits there and cries and sleeps.” He finishes his coffee as he let’s Jack soak that in. Because they hadn’t known had they? Outside the house and working all the time, trying to hunt them down so Michael would, finally, be safe. “Ryan says he barely eats.”

“Alcohol?”

“He’s pulling a Ray,” Gavin semi-joked.

Jack sighed, “At least there’s that.”

“At least there’s that.” Gavin echoed.

“So you’re staying to take care of him,” Jack says, bringing them back to the original point.

“You how know Ryan is. How Ray is.” Gavin shrugged, playing with the rim of his cup.

Jack laughed, but nothing was really funny. “Yeah. I do…. Good luck, Gavin.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

…

It’s been two weeks after Michael dies (but also doesn’t and Jack remembers to focus on that) when Jack confronts Geoff during one of those rare moments when their boss decides to come home.

“Do you remember your first?” She asks, slipping into the home office, closing the door, and sitting down.

Geoff, to his credit, stops typing and meets her eye; “It’s been about 458 years since I died, Jack.”

“Michael won’t stop sleeping.” She carries on, watching as the slump in Geoff’s shoulder only deepens when she mentions their youngest member, “We don’t know if that’s normal.”

“I’m no help,” Geoff says, turning away to start typing on his computer again, probably looking through that week’s reports. If nothing has come of this, then at least Geoff’s productivity is refreshing after having to herd the man into doing the basics of running an empire for the past five years. 

Jack closes his laptop, sighs, and crosses her legs. “He died. He didn’t get dumb.”

Geoff frowns, starring at his laptop.

“He’s noticed you’re not around.”

“Jack…” Geoff looks up at her. There are tears in the corners of her eyes, but she’s too old to fall for a pretty trick like that.

“He’s not okay, Geoff.” Jack continues. “He sleeps and barely talks and barely eats. And we know it’s not normal.”

Geoff fidgets.

“He needs his family, Geoffrey.” She grabs his hand and squeezes as if she could force him to listen to her. But there has never been a more stubborn man than Geoffrey Lazer Ramsey. “He needs you home more than the crew needs their boss right now.”

Geoff says something and she doesn’t catch it. “What?”

Geoff’s breath catches and when he finally looks at her, there are tears on his cheek and a quiver to his lip. “I ki-,” He takes a deep breath. “I killed him, Jack. I…I sent him in and then the fire and…I burnt him to death, Jack. And there was so little left. Just ash…”

She wants to argue, reassure Geoff that that isn’t true. But he’s in no condition to listen to her, won’t be for a long time. Instead, she whispers, leaning in close and holding both of his hands in her’s. “But he’s alive now, Geoff. And he needs you home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

“‘Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.’

From an Irish headstone”

_\- Richard Puz, The Carolinian_

…

Michael likes having Gavin around. He’s his boi and his closest friend in a different way from Ray. Michael knows it gives the others room to breathe, knows that his…issues has been wearing Ray thin and making Ryan uncomfortable. But Michael doesn’t have to worry about it with Gavin. And it helps when the tears come—a new thing from this new body, unwanted and uncontrollable—after he wakes up from a dream he can’t remember (but he can guess) that he can call on Gavin without guilt.

It also seems to help Gavin.

Michael isn’t dumb. He’d died. He’d changed. He’s dealing it in an admittedly stupid way. (He wants to change but the feeling of fatigue that weighs his limbs down and forces his eye’s closed never seems to give no matter how much he sleeps: 2 hours or 10. And it’s like it’s not his body but maybe his soul that wants to sleep forever, but he can’t think about that.) But he still has eyes. He still knows these people, this family. The reason Jack is never not working. The reason Geoff can’t bear to stay in the same house as him (and Michael just feels lucky that Geoff hasn’t left the state yet.) The reason why Ryan’s insomnia has kicked in full force as if trying to balance out all the hours Michael spends sleeping. The reason why Ray, when able, is claiming every moment of me-time he can carve out. The reason the others are suffering is the giant elephant that is his death. And if hanging around him, taking care of him, is helping Gavin breath easier, then Michael isn’t going to complain.

It makes Michael breath easier too.

But the best thing about having Gavin home is that he always came home with news about Lindsay.

Michael has tried calling her. He sits there with his phone out, number ready to be pushed. But he always freezes at the last second. His body. His brain. He gets stuck. Not on fire, but on fear. Darkness. And he doesn’t know how long he’d sit there until Ray would find him. Ten minutes or fifteen minutes later, Ray would pull the phone from his hands, set it to the side, and take a seat next to him in silence until Michael can make his mind move and then his body get up, go to another room and lie down. And sleep

But Gavin can talk to her. And Gavin can talk to him. And the best part is that Gavin doesn’t seem to mind. All Michael needs to do is sit down next to Gavin after he comes home from work and he’d ramble on and on. Sometimes about work but eventually he’d always talk about Lindsay. What they’d said over lunch. What she’d been working on. Something hilarious she had said to Gavin at the coffee table.

And Michael can see it when he closes his eyes: her at her station with her hair up to keep it out of the way. Working and interacting with friends and co-workers. Living. And a longing will well up in his throat and he’ll think about calling her or leaving and walking to her house or leaving and walking away. But he never manage to do anything; it frustrates him, drives him crazy and to tears, until he finds his way to a room somewhere else to fall asleep.

And he wants to scream, sometimes. He really does. But he’ll open his mouth and his voice just won’t work right. Paper-thin and scratchy like he’d swallowed sand. Too soft when he manages to get it out right or too loud in his head to make it past his throat. Of every function of this body, of course it’s his voice that comes back wrong.

And he won’t see her until he can speak.

(And when he can, maybe he’ll find another excuse.)

…

Gavin’s on a lunch break, relaxing in the cafeteria (and he never thought working in a gang would ever feel like a 9-to-5, but here he is) when he spots Lindsay and call’s her over. “Lindsay!”

“Gavin!”

He makes a note that she’s wearing the shirt Michael bought her at the boardwalk to tell Michael later. “Come sit,” he gestures to the seat next to him and pushes all his papers haphazardly into the bag next to him so she has room.

“Wassup?”

Gavin shrugs. He’s still busy. He’s got a lead now thanks to Kdin and Kerry’s work. And their new contact in the LSPD—Miles—has managed to pull some interesting files about the possible assholes who’d hit their warehouse (though everyone still doesn’t know what they were after, but Jack has ideas and Geoff has been oddly silent about the whole ordeal). But it’s slow going what with him out of the office and the underlings having to pull his load when he can’t. But he doesn’t mind. Michael needs him.

It hadn’t taken long for Gavin to realize that Michael didn’t speak. And it isn’t just when he’s having off days where he spends all his time sleeping and barely eating and sometimes crying in a small corner of the house until someone manages to find him. It’s always. Even on good days when he manages to stumble out of the house for an hour or two or hang around the living room with the television on or to watch Ray play old school Mario. Sometimes, on good days, he’ll even laugh. But it’s quieter than Gavin remembers.

Everything about Michael just seems…quieter.

Ray agrees. Says he doesn’t know what to do. Ryan is just as lost, floundering. Barely sleeping and barely functioning, still and silent as often as Michael is asleep. Sometimes, when Jack comes home, Ryan’ll rest for a few hours when the caffeine wears off and he can’t keep standing. Gavin usually is the one to take him to bed, tuck him in and make him promise to rest for at least a few hours. When Gavin tells Jack that Ryan only sleeps when she’s home, she starts coming home more often.

It helps Michael too.

Ryan is the one that points it out; the way Michael comes out of hiding to sit in the living room to read or play a game when there are more voices in the house as if it made up for Michael’s own quiet.  Sometimes, he won’t even do anything. Michael’ll just sit and watch Ray play or listen to the other’s talk. At first, once Gavin started noticing, it added to the unease that came with Michael’s new silence. Now…after a few weeks staying at home and only going into work when needed, Gavin is just grateful to see Michael doing anything similar to socializing.

The only time Michael speaks is when he’s asking for something. Never for food or a lift anywhere or anything like that. Only when he’s asking about the others; the B Team and Geoff and Lindsay. Mostly Lindsay.

And Gavin likes having things to tell him, which is why he’s made it a point to sit with Lindsay every lunch and ask her how she’s doing and see what she’s wearing and how’s she’s done her hair that day. Because it’s important to Michael so it’s important to him.

But he doesn’t tell her all of this. Instead he says, “Busy. Been out of the office a lot so I’ve been catching up on work.”

“Oh…yeah.” She picks a bit at her burrito and refuses to meet his eye as the rest of the cafeteria fills up and the volume in the small hall hits peak levels. And only then does she sighs and set her food aside. “So…how’s Michael doing, Gavin?”

And Gavin isn’t surprised because he’s been expecting this for a long time. But instead he asks her, “Why haven’t you been up to see him, Linds?”

Her expression sours and she shrugs. And Gavin knows he should push because maybe if she came by then maybe Michael might laugh a little louder. Maybe he might ask her to stay. Maybe he might talk…. But Gavin is also aware enough that maybe a cafeteria is a shitty place to bring this up. “He misses you.” Gavin starts. “He asks about you everyday. It’s the only time he really speaks.”

And she looks riveted and horrified as Gavin explains Michael’s quiet and Michael’s tears. His good days and his bad days. And by the end, their lunch break has closed and they’re the last to be sitting in the cafeteria; Gavin’s butt is numb and Lindsay has managed to eat three-fourths of her burrito. They stop only when Gavin has run out of things he feels he has the right to say and Lindsay has no more questions to ask and Jack has left three voicemails on his phone.

There’s a moment of silence before Lindsay finally speaks, “I miss him too.”

“Why haven’t you come up to see him?” Gavin repeats. Because they’re alone now and certainly he needs to know. For Michael but also himself. Because he loves Ray and he loves Ryan. But they can’t handle this and Michael needs more help than Gavin and Jack know how to give. (And Jack had suggested someone professional but who could they trust to understand this..whatever it was?) And Lindsay….Lindsay knows Michael best of all.

She shrugs again, looks away and wraps her arms around herself as if to hold herself together. And when she looks back, she looks guilty. “I’m scared.”

And that hadn’t been what Gavin was expecting.

“I’m….” she groans and sits up straight to look him in the eye. “I’m terrified of-of what he could be, ya know?” And now that she’s started, she’s on a role. “It’s not that I’m scared of you guys but I don’t…You die and then you come back. It can’t be that simple. It can’t.” And her voice is getting stronger. “And I’m scared that if I go up there, he won’t be Michael…. And I’m scared of what all this means. For us. Where do we go when one of us can’t die?” She looks at him as if begging for him for answers he doesn’t have. “What do we do when we can’t grow old together?”

Gavin’s eyes drop to her wedding ring and he shrugs.

“Ryan once said he can’t remember his mom,” Lindsay adds after a moment of silence. “And Geoff said that sometimes when he dies he forgets stuff likes names and places and things he’s done and it takes him a long time to remember them again.”

Gavin nods. “I forgot how to walk for a bit, once.”

Lindsay laughs. “Of-fucking-course you would.” But then her smile falls away. “What if Michael does and he forgets me? What if…enough time passes and I die and he lives and he just…he just doesn’t remember me anymore?”

“I…” And Gavin wants to reassure her that it isn’t true. But he can’t. Because it is. Time goes on, doesn’t it? “We wouldn’t let him forget.”

She huffs and it’s bitter and it’s sad. “You can’t promise that, Gavin. One day, you’ll forget too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think?


	4. Chapter 4

“The thrill of coming home has never changed.”

_\- Guy Pearce_

…

It takes Geoff two more weeks to go home. Two more weeks of paper work and planning and reorganizing. Two more weeks of suspicion: screening contacts and crew members and anyone who could have let something slip. Two more weeks of shakedowns and money collections and random check-ins to remind everyone whose generosity kept this city running, kept them safe, kept them living. Two more weeks of working up the courage, of being unable to meet Jack’s eye.

That night he comes home late, sneaks in after dinner is put away and he hopes everyone has gone to bed. Toes off his shoes, hangs his coat and stands in the hallway to try and calm his beating heart until he feels like he can walk up the stairs without waking everyone up (or screaming). And it takes a moment for him to realize the living room TV is on and he freezes. Horrified by the thought it might be Michael (and he isn’t ready yet) until Ryan comes into view. Without mask or face paint and wrapped in the comforter they usually drape over the living room coach. The dark circles illuminated in the dimmed lights of the hallway dominate his face as if he is still wearing smears of face paint. And he looks smaller than he is.

Neither one speaks. Geoff shifts from one foot to another as Ryan stares unblinking, his eyes wandering, looking for something. Until, finally, Ryan breaks the silence “Are you staying?”

“Ye-” and Geoff’s voice breaks and he clears his throat. “Yeah.”

Ryan nods, “Good. That’s good.” He smiles and it looks wrong. “Michael needs people around.”

“How are you, Ryan?” Geoff asks, steps closer so he can see Ryan’s face better. The TV in the living room goes into sleep mode.

Ryan shrugs, “I’m okay.”

“Jack says you haven’t been sleeping well.”

Ryan looks away and shrugs again. “Michael isn’t well.” He says. “Having Jack and Gavin here helps. It’ll help having you home too.”

Geoff reaches out, takes Ryan’s hand in his. “I’ll do my best,” Geoff tells him, squeezes his hand and smiles. And Geoff can see the tension leave Ryan’s shoulders and the dark circles only look bigger closer up. And Geoff realizes (and he’d known hadn’t he: his cowardice) he should have been here. He should have been here. For Michael. But also for Ryan and Ray and the others. And Jack was right. Of course she was.

But he’s home now and he’s going to make it okay.

…

Michael wakes up and he is timeless. The sky is grey. The sun is gone. The house is quiet. If he strains his ears he can make out the distant sound of the city below: commuters and construction, wind and train cars. And it feels like a blanket is wrapped around his head. The world is muted and it feels heavy. It takes time for him to convince himself it’s worth getting up. Even if the house is empty there are still things needed to be done. Dishes and laundry and maybe he’ll find the energy to step out. Get something to eat. Walk around the city.

(He used to love doing that but now he’s usually too tired.)

When he manages to sit up, he turns his phone on to check the time: 7am. No wonder, he thinks, the house is so quiet. No one else is awake. And he thinks about going back to bed. But then he worries about not being able to get back up.

So he takes the time to check his emails. Only one is from work, the rest junk or reminders to vote. And the house is still quiet so he plays a few games of Candy Crunch until he runs out of lives and then switches to 4DOTS until he looks back at the time. It’s 8am and somewhere in the house a faucet is running.

He climbs out of bed and grabs a pair of socks because the floors are too cold and goes to the bathroom. Brushes his teeth and washes his face. He thinks about combing his hair but he decides against it. It’s a curly, fluffy mess, probably too full of knots at this point to bother. And he needs a haircut. Linds—

(And his brain stops and restarts so it takes a moment for him to let go of the faucet and when he does his hand is cramping.)

He exits the bathroom and heads downstairs, takes a moment to grab someone’s sweater that is draped over the railing and shrug it on because the house is too cold. (And is it Fall so soon?) There’s no one in the living room but in the kitchen he hears Jack talking to someone and he realizes he’s hungry. Maybe he’ll get something to eat.

…

Geoff is mid-joke when Michael walks in and he feels his voice die in his throat. When he catches Jack’s gaze, she rolls her eyes, turns and wishes Michael a good morning. Michael replies with a smile and a shrug as he makes his way towards the fridge. And he doesn’t seem to have noticed Geoff yet.

So Geoff takes the time to just stare because it’s the first time he’s seen Michael since the fire. Michael has the same dark circles around his eyes just like Ryan. And his hair is a pile of knots and bedhead. But he’s breathing. And Geoff doesn’t know why this surprises him. He’s immortal. He’s been around. He’s died enough times to know how it works. But it does. And Geoff just stares at the way Michael’s chest moves up and down, taking air and letting it go.

Jack nudges him softly.

Geoff smiles at her and he hopes he isn’t tearing up. And he wants to say something but what can he say? What could justify where he’s been? Why he hasn’t come home? So he says, “Good morning” because there isn’t anything is there? Nothing that could be said in just a sentence.

He does not expect Michael to flinch. “Geoff!”

And Jack makes a high-pitched noise behind him but Geoff’s already moving forward, grabbing at the unbalanced plate before it can topple off the counter where Michael had dropped it in his surprise. And Michael is just looking at him now, wide-eyed and searching just as Ryan did the night before. And Geoff has to wonder what they thought of him when he was gone. If they wondered if he was ever coming home and he hopes not. He hopes that they knew that he wasn’t leaving them, that he still loved them. That he stayed away because he was a coward, too afraid to look Michael in the eye. He hopes they know it wasn’t because of them.

“You-You’re home.” Michael states and then clears his throat and swallows.

And Geoff nods, reaches around the counter to fill a glass of water for Michael because his voice sounds rough. “Yeah. I…I’m sorry about having fucked off like that. It wasn’t your fault. I was dealing with things poorly when I should have been here and…” And he doesn’t know what to say, hadn’t rehearsed a speech or anything. But Michael’s looking up to him like he’s a God damn miracle so he shoots Jack a look from over his shoulder to see her rapidly texting on her phone. So she’s no help.

Michael’s still holding the glass of water and looking at him with wide eyes when he finally says, “I’m glad you’re home, Geoff.”

Geoff smiles. “I’m glad to be home too, Michael.”

…

Ray wakes up to his phone buzzing rapidly and considers, just for a moment, chucking the fucking thing against the wall. Because it’s 8:15AM according to his alarm clock and he’s not ready for this: work (he hasn’t been in in ages and Caleb’s going to get tired of covering for his ass eventually) or Tina (and he’s been a real piece of shit with that too) or Michael (he’s trying, okay). But it doesn’t matter, does it?

So he grabs his phone and rolls over so his back is against the windows. The first text he reads after he swipes from his home screen steals his breathe away: “Michael is talking.” And his fingers are shaking as he scrolls up to read the group chat, grinning as he reads the other’s reactions. Because this is a like a Christmas miracle and Halloween come early type of deal. And it doesn’t take much motivation for him to hope out of bed and get dressed.

So he’s hurrying, halfway down the steps when he almost trips over Ryan, sitting right in the middle of the first flight down with his face in his hands, shoulders low and hunched over. And for a moment, Ray wonders if he is asleep before Ryan spoke up, “Hey, Ray.”

“Ryan?” Ray asks, stepping to the side and sitting down, allowing their shoulders and knees to bump just light enough that Ryan looks up. And Ray can’t tell for sure but he might be crying. “Are you okay?”

Ryan shrugs, looks down between his knees. And when he speaks, his voice is thick with emotion, “He should have come home earlier.”

And it takes Ray a moment. “Geoff?”

Ryan shrugs again.

Ray doesn’t know what to say so he says nothing, leans back as Ryan fidgets, looks up and then to the left, folds his hands over his knees. And Ray’s phone is still buzzing and he bothers a glance at the home screen to see its Gavin asking him where he and Ryan are because Geoff is cooking. And around the corner, he can hear them: Jack laughing and Gavin telling some stupid story.

Ryan gets up so fast that Ray almost misses it: the large bark of laughter that fades off too soon but was still there. And Ryan is wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand (and it’s a good thing he’s stopped wearing face paint around the house) but when he looks at Ray, he’s smiling.

And it might be the first time Ray’s seen him smile since Michael woke up. “Geoff’s making breakfast.” Ray offers, standing up. But even then he has to look up to catch Ryan’s eye.

“We should go join them,” Ryan agrees. And he’s still smiling.

…

After breakfast they crowd in the living room. The lads take the sofa; throw arms and legs around each other like they usually do. Ryan hovers close, sits by the table and starts shuffling through one of the packs of playing cards. Geoff takes the armchair, holds his beer by the neck and throws his legs on the table despite Jack’s scolding. Jack takes her time, throws open the curtains to let in the afternoon sun and crack the windows to let in the cool breeze. And Gavin shifts when Michael curls in closer, pulling his sweater (and is that Ray’s) closer.

Geoff’s telling a story, catching them up on what they missed at work but keeps it away from the search for whoever got to the warehouse. Instead, he tells them about shakedowns and new hires. About having to coach some of the younger members through the proper etiquette of a money collection. And the annoying conversation he’d had with Burnie yesterday. Jack interjects ever now and then between sips of beer with an addition or a correction, whether it’s a name or place or reminder of how Geoff isn’t as cool as he thinks.

And Ryan is laughing. Ray is starting to doze off, head lolling to the side and sudden jerks as he forces himself awake until Michael pushes Ray back so he’s half-laying down.

For the most part, Gavin is focused on Michael. On how he’s smiling more than Gavin has seen Michael smile in weeks. How he sometimes let out snickers that get away from him; turning into full-blown laughs. And he might not be talking as much as Jack had made it out to be. Which… of course. Things don’t just get better in a day. It’s not like Michael doesn’t have good days.

But Michael doesn’t have good days like this. This…this is improvement. And he knows it’s because Geoff came home. And Geoff seems to have picked up on this too by the looks he keeps throwing Michael looks whenever Michael’s occupied by something else and the silent communication he shares with Jack.

“Anyone want anything?” Ryan offers, rocking to his feet and clutching what Gavin presumes is an empty Diet Coke can.

“I’ve got it,” Gavin offers, untangling himself so Michael shifts closer to Ray who mumbles softly in his sleep. “I gotta piss anyway.”

He snatches the can and heads to the kitchen before Ryan could protest. The fridge is lacking Diet Coke so he grabs some Diet Pepsi and hopes it’ll due. Before heading back to the living room, he makes a detour to the bathroom. When he heads back to the living room, Ray has woken up and is turning on the TV with an Xbox controller in hand. Ryan half-mindedly thanks him when Gavin hands Ryan the can, absorbed with whatever is on his phone. Geoff and Jack start arguing on whose racer looks better. Michael has taken Ray’s place, letting his head gently rest against the sofa and slowly closing his eye. But it doesn’t look like he has any plans to leave to take his nap like he usually does. And he’s smiling.

And Gavin considers sitting back down and snatching the other controller before Ryan can and playing Ray in whatever co-op/multiplayer he chooses. But his feet are already leading him out and upstairs, past his room and into Geoff’s without really thinking about it. Because he has time to think without worrying about Michael. Because Michael is smiling and Geoff is here. So he open’s the glass doors to the balcony and climbs up the fire-escape up to the roof where Geoff’s set up the grill and Jack’s left a wine glass and book on the table which Gavin half-notes to bring back inside.

It’s cold up here and he zips up his hoodie before swinging his legs over the edge of the roof, letting his feet dangle in mid-air, and leaning back to look at the sky. Fall’s coming. And the sky is blue now that the morning mist has passed. Soon the sun will disappear and the day will end.

And time will move on. And he’ll be one more day older. And he can’t stop thinking about what Lindsay had said. About forgetting. About losing people he’s learned to love.

And how many people in his life has he loved and forgotten? He thinks about what he thinks his mother looked like 300 some years ago. He thinks of Margaret, the first women he fell in love with when he finally settled in England. He thinks of Howard, the first love he lost to war. And he wonders if he’s remembering them wrong. He wonders if they really looked like he thinks they did. If they really sounded like that? If they did the things they did? Lived the way he thinks they did? Died the way he thinks they’d died?

He sits forward and cracks open the beer he’d carried from the kitchen and wonders in another 300 years if he’ll look back and wonder what Meg looked like?

…

That’s where Ryan finds him, lost in thought and balancing a Yuengling between his knees. “You’re missing the festivities,” Ryan says in greeting, taking a seat next to Gavin, letting his feet dangle off the edge. “Geoff says he might cook tonight.”

Gavin hums and they fall into the silence. Ryan thinks the city looks beautiful from up here.

“Do you-,” Gavin starts and stops to take a sip of beer as if to mask the pause. “Do you ever think about the people we forget?” he says after he finally swallows.

And Ryan watches the city bellow for a moment because he doesn’t know where this is coming from but it’s not like Gavin’s normal questions. Maybe it’s in the wording, “No.” he says. Because he’s thought about this before. He’s old enough. Older than all of them. “I’ve figured I forgot them for a reason.”

Gavin finishes off his beer and sets it to the side. The wind is picking up. “It can’t be that easy.” He says, finally.

“Why not?” Ryan asks.

“Because…” Gavin shrugs, “Because it just can’t! There must be people I don’t remember.”

“Of course there are,” Ryan says, keeping his voice soft as Gavin starts chewing on his lower lip and playing with the cuff of his sweater. “Just like if you live a normal life. It’s not like…Lindsay or Caleb remember every person they’ve ever talked to. But they remember the important ones.” Ryan shrugs, pulls his legs back over the edge and sits cross-legged. “We just have more time to meet people.”

And they fall silent. Ryan watches the sky and Gavin looks down bellow, lost in thought.

“Ryan, do you remember your mother?” Gavin asks.

Ryan sighs, “I don’t want to remember my mother, Gavin. She isn’t the kind of person you want to stay around. But yeah…I remember parts.”

“Even after all this time?”

“There are just some people you can’t forget.”

“If they’re important enough,” Gavin adds.

Ryan nods, “If they’re important, they’ll stick with you through lifetimes. Maybe not all the parts. But…their names and their faces. Your favorite memories. Your least favorite memories.” Ryan shrugs and turns to catch Gavin’s eye, “Some things you can’t forget no matter how hard you try or how much time passes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the super long wait. October was not my month. I hope you guys enjoyed the latest chapter and get excited because we only have one more chapter to go!! OMG! This story is almost done and I can't believe it. 
> 
>  
> 
> [Playlist Inspired by this Fanfiction](http://8tracks.com/thequeen117/the-death-and-life-of-michael-v-jones)


	5. Chapter 5

“End? No, the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path.”

_\- J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King_

…

Michael wakes up and he is crying from a dream he cannot remember. The sky is blue. The sun is gone. But the light that filters through the curtains paints his room blue and white. Downstairs, he can hear chatter, laughter, and the occasional shout of protest. If he strains his ears, he can make out voices and words: whose saying what and whose saying nothing. And when he sits up, he wipes his cheeks dry and takes his time to adjust to the cold before walking barefooted to the bathroom.

He thinks maybe today he will ask Gavin to walk around the city with him.

When he makes it downstairs, Jack is at the stove, chatting with Geoff about something political that Michael doesn’t have the energy to decode. Gavin is at the table, typing away at an email and Michael makes a point of brushing past him so he looks up and say’s “Good Morning, Micool.”

“Mornin’,” Michael echoes, half-minded as he starts searching in the fridge for something to eat before Jack grabs his attention and sets a plate of eggs and bacon pointedly on the table next to Ray.

Ray takes a moment from his conversation with Ryan about the Destiny DLC that Michael has yet to play (and he hasn’t played a lot of games so maybe if Gavin doesn’t want to go out with him, he’ll play some video games) to say hello. And Michael grunts in reply around his bite of eggs.

He takes his time eating, just enjoying the noise around him. Ryan doesn’t seem to really be paying attention to whatever Ray is going on about, shooting him a pointed glance and rolling his eyes. Ray scowls.  Michael laughs.

When he finishes eating, Gavin is doing dishes as the other’s still mill around the kitchen. Geoff will be leaving for work soon. Jack is going with him. And so is Ryan. Michael is excited for him, for him to get his life going again. After sleeping well for the past week or so, it’s a natural progression. But that doesn’t mean he won’t miss seeing Ryan around the house.

(Maybe soon…Michael will be able to get back to work and he won’t have to worry about not seeing them. But that’s dependent on Geoff, whose still pushing for Michael to see a therapist and Michael knows that he’s better but he’s not 100 percent. But that doesn’t mean he’s ready for someone to poke around his head for a couple of hours a week.)

“Hey, Gavvy?”

Gavin takes his plate and hums softly to let Michael know he’s listening.

“Do you think we could head out today and maybe do some shopping, if you don’t have any other plans?” Michael asks.

Gavin smiles. “Course I would, boi!”

Geoff finishes typing on his phone and tucks in his pocket. “Okay, boys and Jack. We gotta head out.”

Jack sighs and sits up, stretches a bit so her back pops and takes a moment to give Michael a hug, which catches him a bit off guard, before following Geoff out. Ryan takes his time standing and saying a goodbye that the lads echo before Geoff finally calls him to the door. And Michael leans against the counter as Ray and Gavin head out to get ready for the day.

It’s been a few weeks since everyone started coming home and it’s good. Mornings like this where everyone is one room and talking. It makes breathing easier. And Michael feels better most days. More active. Happier. But…. But something is still missing.

He sighs and starts playing with the wedding ring Ryan managed to salvage from his last body. Yeah, he thinks. Something is still missing.

…

Gavin slips out around noon, tells Michael he’ll be back in an hour or so because Trevor had a problem he wanted Gavin to take a look, and tries not to chicken out.

Because he’s not heading to work for Trevor (and really, Trevor and Kdin and the other’s have just been brilliant picking up the slack that the six of them just haven’t been able to) and he’s not even really going for Michael or for Geoff or for himself. Really, he’s going for Lindsay.  Lindsay whose been walking around with weights around her ankles that Gavin has only just begun to understand as Gavin has tried and tried and tried to think of a way to prove her wrong. And he’s running out of time. He can see it; the window of opportunity where Michael and Lindsay can begin again is closing.

He’d noticed Michael wearing his wedding ring again once Ryan had it fixed, cleaned it up and made it all new. And it’s a reminder of how dedicated they are to each other. It’s been months since the two of them had talked, had even seen each other face to face. But still the both of them wore their rings, asked about each other constantly, and missed each other fiercely. And certainly if any love could stand the test of time --if even Ryan’s memories of his mother could stand the test of time --then Michael and Lindsay must stand a chance, right?

They have to.

(He doesn’t think about Meg. And maybe his heart skips a beat.)

When he get’s to the building, he doesn’t bother swiping in or letting anyone know he is here. He knows Lindsay would be getting back on shift soon and he needs to hurry. She’s on the backstairs holding a cup of coffee when Gavin stumbles into her.

“Gavin?” she says, surprised. “Jack told me you weren’t coming in today.”

“I’m not,” Gavin reassures her, looking up as she stands a few stairs above of him. “But I had to talk to you. You need to come see, Michael.”

“Gavin…”

“Look, Lindsay,” Gavin sighs, “I know. But Michael’s doing better. He’s doing loads better but he’s not good. Not yet. And he needs help. He needs you home.”

Lindsay is the first to look away. “I told you why I can’t…”

“Ryan remembers his mom.” Gavin cuts in, blurts it out and throwing whatever semblance of a speech he’d thought up out the window. And he nods when she whispers “What?” “Yeah, he said that he doesn’t remember all of it, but he remembers what’s important like her face and name and the important memories. And he’s the oldest out of all of us, so that’s gotta mean something, Lindsay. Right?”

And Gavin’s looking up at her with wide hopeful eyes. Pleading with her to understand something she just can’t. “What?” she asks again. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You said you were afraid of being forgotten,” Gavin said as calmly as he could. “You said you needed to make sure Michael was still Michael cause what if he didn’t remember you? But I promise he remembers. He asks about you everyday. And if Ryan can remember his Mum from the Roman days then…then that must mean Michael will remember you long after, right? Cause you’re important.”

“Cause I’m important?” Lindsay echoes, moves to sit down with her coffee cup gripped tight enough that her knuckles were white. “You really think that, Gavin? That it’s that simple.”

“I doubted myself for a bit,” Gavin shrugged, “What if, I said, I didn’t remember right? But Ryan said we can’t forget the important stuff. That it’s just like normal people only we’ve got more time than most. You don’t remember everyone you meet but you remember the important ones; it’s the same way for us. We remember the important ones.”

When Lindsay only looks half convinced. Gavin sighs, let’s his shoulders slump, because he doesn’t know what he can say to make her believe. But he believes in Ryan. He’d thought about it enough that it made sense. And it needed to be enough for Lindsay. It needed to be. Because she and Michael needed each other. “Why can’t it be that simple, Lindsay? Isn’t it at least worth a chance?”

…

A few weeks later Jack’s cleaning the scales off the fish like Geoff had instructed her to do when Ryan comes in, hops on the counter with two bowls and starts peeling potatoes.

“He’s got you working too?” Jack smiles as she flips the fish and starts running the knife down the other side. Scales were flying everywhere and this was going to be a bitch to clean when she was done.

Ryan scowls. “This is Michael’s job. Where is he anyway? Still out with Gavin?”

Jack shrugs. Ryan scowls as he finishes a potato and sets it aside to pick up the next one. “ I don’t get why Geoff can’t do this himself.”

“He’s busy” Jack shrugged, getting off the last of the scales by running the fish under cold water.

“That stupid grill isn’t going to start. He needs to just buy a new one.”

“I think that’s what Gavin and Michael have gone to do.” Jack added, laying the fish aside and grabbing the knife. Geoff wanted it in filets to marinate. “And Geoff has Ray doing the last minute groceries.”

There’s a pause as they both work. Ryan watching Jack as Jack tried to keep her hands steady. Butchering, or as close as she’d ever get to it, is always fun. “It’s nice seeing him out of the house.” Ryan says finally. “Three months ago and he’d be sleeping.”

Jack hums in agreement. They both know who he’s talking about. “I think its Caleb. He’s improving much faster than he was before. He doesn’t even take naps anymore.”

“He talks more,” Ryan agrees. “Though I still think we should have gotten someone better trained.”

Jack shrugs, “I know. But Geoff had a point. Who else would get it? Immortality? Can’t just tell any therapist to treat depression brought on by not being able to die.”

In the other room a door opens and Michael announces his and Gavin’s return. He sounds breathless like he’s been running and Gavin is cackling in the background. Jack sets the fish in the bowl to marinate as Ryan finishs the last potato and hops down to empty the bowl of peels.

“At least he’s doing better,” Ryan says under his breath to Jack.

Jack nods in agreement as Michael and Gavin start arguing over who had to carry the new grill to the roof.

…

Lindsay clocks out and made a point of saying goodbye to Gavin as she heads out. Lost in thought, she floats down to her car and somehow finding herself in her apartment a few moments later. As she steps inside, she takes a moment to toe off her shoes before heading to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water, only to set it down when she notices her hands shaking.

She blinks a few times and it’s like the world aligns for a moment. And she remembers to center herself. She clenches her fists. Her kitchen is oddly spotless and she wonders, between extra shifts and extra work, when was the last time she’d cooked instead of grabbing whatever fast food was between the office and home (and she never thought working a 9 to 5 would be like an office job but here she is). Lindsay waits until her hands are still enough for her to pick up the glass of water and move to the living room where she drops onto her sofa (they’d argued about the color for hours when they’d planned to move in together but now…who knows…who knows). When she glances at her clock, she has to wonder how an hour had passed since she’d entered her apartment. Or…had it passed?

She isn’t quite sure. And she finally sets the glass on the table and grabs the remote. NBC is playing a rerun marathon of Law & Order (and when was the last time she’d seen a new episode of Law & Order?) and she get’s comfortable enough to lose a few more hours. Because she doesn’t want to think—she’s thought enough for the day.

(She wonders if this is what Mich—)

She tunes in as the second set of commercials key in and considers making food just as an ad for Kay Jewlers comes on and the narrator reminds her that love is the best gift just as an old, married couple with their two grandkids come onto the screen. And suddenly  the world blurs and when she touches her cheeks, there artears. She is crying. She is crying, and she doesn’t know why. But that’s a lie. And she knows why. Of course, she does. And she reaches for her phone before she can really think about it. Because she’s done enough thinking for the day and the week and the month since Gavin had asked her “why not risk it?” And she couldn’t respond. She still can’t.

She’s just scared. God. She’s terrified as she let’s her hands shake as she dials Michael’s number for the first time since the day he’d died (and has it really been almost four months?)  And when the phone picks up, she can hear the laughter of the other’s in the background and she almost hangs up until she hears the soft spoken (so soft and since when is Michael so quiet?) “Hello?”

And she sobs, thick and watery. And the line goes deathly silent for a moment. “Lindsay?” Michael asks.

She breathes hard and clears her throat. “Can I come over?”

There’s another moment of silence before Michael replies. “I’ll come to you.”

…

Michael tells Geoff he’s leaving and Jack offers to drive him before Geoff can answer. And they reach in a record time, the other drivers knowing to get out of the way when The Fake are on the road. But for once, no cop cars are bothering them. “I’ll pick you up when you need me,” Jack offers and Michael nods before gathering the courage to step outside of the car.

“Thanks, Jack.”

Jack leans over to catch his eye as Michael closes the door. “It’s going to be okay.”

Michael nods.

As Jack speeds away, Michael turns around and never before has he been so terrified of a lime-green door but here he is and there she is on the other side. And all he needs to do is walk up those stairs and knock on that door and tell her he loves her. Because he needs to tell her he loves her. His legs feel like led and his hands are clammy and his heart is beating way too fast. But he gets up there and he knocks and when the door opens to reveal the woman of his dreams, he can feel his breath leave him. Any words he meant to say die on his tongue as he takes in her disheveled appearance, tear stained cheeks, and deep, dark circles under her eyes.

“Lindsay,” he says and then can say no more.

“Come in,” she offers and then opens the door further.

Stepping over the threshold feels like a test but Michael is not sure if he has passed or failed. And when she leads him to the living room and sits on the coach they had spent hours arguing over at IKEA, he cannot stop himself from taking her hand in his. It is only then he realizes she is wearing her wedding ring.

“I…” Michael clears his throat. Focuses on keeping his breathing calm. “I’m glad you called.”

“I misse-d you,” she says and her voice cracks every so slightly. She is fighting back tears. So is Michael.

The TV is playing on in the background, but Michael cannot take his eyes off her and yet he cannot look her in the eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

Lindsay takes a deep breath. “I’m…I’m sorry I didn’t visit.” There is a moment of silence before she asks, “How are you, Michael?”

“Better,” he settles on, unsure how to describe the past four months. “I’ve been seeing Caleb, getting everything sort of…settled. Having the others around helps.”

“Yeah, Gavin said you were better.” She offers and Michael is so relieved to know she had asked after him just as he had asked after her. That maybe that meant something.

There is another moment of silence and Michael asks, “How are you?”

Lindsay takes a moment to answer and then another before settling on, “Lonely.”

Michael looks away at the coffee table, lets go of her hand and tries not to curl up in on himself. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” she says, reaching out and taking his hand back. “I was scared of…this.” She gestures to him and he bites back a laugh. “I was scared of us being different.”

“And you’re not scared anymore?” he offers. The TV finally switches off so the only sound is their breathing and the sound of the laundry machine running in the other room.

She looks at him, forces eye contact before answer, “No, but I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Michael whispers back, caught up in the relief. “I love you so much.”

“I want this to work, Michael,” Lindsay continues; her voice only grows stronger the longer she speaks. “I want to be with you. And I know you’re not okay. Gavin’s told me enough to know that. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to try because I’m not perfect either. And I love you. So if you want…”

“I do,” Michael cuts in, grips her hands tighter and shifts closer so he only needs to lean forward to kiss her. And he squeezes her hand. “I’ll do anything to make this work. To be with you. Remember, Linds. ‘To the ends of the earth and back.’”

Lindsay smiles, soft and vulnerable as she leans forward and tuck’s her head against his neck. “Then I do, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND! THAT is the end of the story, folks. Thank you so much to everyone who read it to the end and left comments and kudos. I really appreciated the feedback and it fueled my desire to finish this story. Seriously, you guys rock! 
> 
> Please, please, please tell me what you think in the comments below. Did you like the ending? Would you like to see a follow up? Did you enjoy the story as a whole? Let me know!
> 
> And thanks for reading. ^u^
> 
> Tumblr: QueenMogar117.tumblr.com


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